


Opportunities

by holdouttrout



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-31
Updated: 2007-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdouttrout/pseuds/holdouttrout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game had long since degenerated into a game that was almost pure luck of the draw.<br/>Han was still winning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opportunities

The game had long since degenerated into a game that was almost pure luck of the draw.  
  
Han was still winning.  
  
"One, two, three, draw."  
  
Luke, Leia, and Han all reached for the stack in quick succession, grabbing the top card and flipping it out without looking at it and placing it on their foreheads. Each person looked at the other two cards and made their bets.  
  
Luke blinked, more than a little drunk. He was losing, and much drunker than Han or Leia because of it.  
  
"Twenty-five," he said, letting go of his markers.  
  
"That's what you bet last time," Han complained.   
  
"I think he's too unsteady to make any changes," Leia said wryly, with just a slight sway as she dropped in her own markers. "Fifty-five."  
  
Han considered briefly. "Ten."  
  
They looked at their cards.  
  
“Damn,” Han said without any real emotion. He took a swig out of the bottle. “Would'a won that one, too.”  
  
Leia smirked.   
  
Luke's head took a sudden dive, and he slumped over the back of his chair. Both Han and Leia's heads swiveled to look at the young boy.  
  
“Guess he's out,” Han said.  
  
“Yes, well, I'm still here,” Leia said with a challenge.  
  
Han nodded to her, took another gulp of the harsh liquor. He passed the bottle to Leia, who hesitated only a moment before taking a long drink, pulling a face at the bit as she finished.  
  
She set the bottle down, sat looking at nothing.  
  
Han grabbed the bottle, finished it.  
  
“Why are you here?”  
  
The question took him by surprise. He got up and pulled down another bottle before answering.  
  
“Why shouldn't I be?”  
  
“As I recall,” she said, in a tone that made him think she might be teasing, might be accusing, “you said you were only in it for the money.”  
  
Han shrugged elaborately, pulled their two neglected glasses over to him, poured them both a drink. “Don't have enough yet.”  
  
Leia grimaced. “Ah.”  
  
They drank in silence. Han watched Leia as she finally tipped over the edge of what she could handle. Her eyes unfocused, and she swayed back and forth a little more.  
  
Abruptly, she put her glass down, gripped the table. “Why do you keep doing this?”  
  
One thing Han noticed was that Leia's words never slurred. Didn't make her any easier to understand, though.  
  
“Doing what?”  
  
She gestured expansively at Luke and herself, then grabbed onto the table again.  
  
“This. Staying. Helping Luke. Getting me drunk.”  
  
Han grinned. “Getting you drunk is fun, princess.”  
  
She rolled her eyes.  
  
“I mean it, your worship.” He scooted closer to her, his hand barely brushing her arm as he slung it over the back and side of his own chair. “It's the one time we don't argue.”  
  
“It's the one time you don't act like a self-centered, arrogant mercenary.”  
  
Despite her abrasive tone, Han merely smiled. Leia fumed.  
  
“I hate it when you do that.”  
  
Still grinning, he leaned toward her. “Do what?”  
  
She was having trouble meeting his eyes, and Han thought it was really...fascinating.  
  
She plucked at her fatigues. “When you act like it doesn't matter what I say about you.”  
  
“Should it?” Han leaned back, swirled his drink, drank down the rest. He got up, only slightly unsteady, put the cap back on the open bottle and put it away. “I'm going to leave sooner or later, you know. And then you'll have to find someone else to get drunk with.” Han surprised himself by feeling a pang at his last words, at the idea of someone else having incoherent conversations with the Princess in the early hours of the morning.  
  
He sat back down at the table, wishing he'd poured another drink, even though he could feel it would be a bad idea.  
  
Leia leaned in, arms on the table.  
  
“You don't have to go.”  
  
Han swallowed. Tension, which had become more and more familiar as the days had gone on, dropped into the room. Granted, he was the one who'd started it, and he was pretty sure if Leia were sober, she wouldn't even be [i]thinking[/i] about saying anything like this.  
  
She slid even closer.  
  
“You could stay.”  
  
Han suddenly found himself fascinated by her eyes, her lips, the way she was breathing.  
  
“Princess,” he said foggily, “I have to--”  
  
But she kissed him, her hands sliding desperately over his shoulders, pulling her toward him. She was warm, and she tasted of alcohol. Han's head buzzed and he leaned closer to Leia to deepen the kiss and she traced his lips with her tongue and Han almost fell out of his chair at the thought that the princess was kissing him, finally, [i]finally[/i].  
  
And then he had the stupid thought that maybe this was a bad idea, that maybe she was a little too drunk.  
  
Maybe she wouldn't remember this tomorrow.  
  
Maybe she would.  
  
He pulled away.  
  
“Not like this, Highness,” he said gently. Leia opened her eyes, looked at him in utter confusion. Han watched her eyes lose their focus, her head bob a bit, and she suddenly tipped over, her forehead thunking against the solid wood of the table in between them.  
  
“Oh, great,” Han muttered, looking from the princess passed out on the table to the farmboy genius pilot in the other chair. Luke was tilted back, his mouth open. “Two of them.”  
  
It was certainly a task corrupting the innocents.  
  
Han shook his head and bent down, putting his arm around Leia's waist. He hauled her up and into his arms, knowing that he couldn't just leave her slumped over the table. He carried her into the spare bunk and tucked her into bed, thinking that he didn't get paid enough for this.  
  
He looked down at the princess, sprawled across the bunk, her dark hair still mostly caught up in a knot on the back of her head. The lump of hair made her head cant at an awkward angle. It looked really uncomfortable.  
  
He thought about undoing it, but something stopped him. He was pretty sure there was a Rule about the hair. Not that anything had been said, but...  
  
He left it alone, closed the door behind him.  
  
Luke was sitting up, blearily rubbing his neck.  
  
“Oh, good!” Han said cheerfully. Luke winced. “Next time, kid, you are going to have to stay sober and let me get drunk. I just missed a great opportunity to do the wrong thing.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Han shook his head. “Never mind. You can take the couch if you want.”  
  
Luke mumbled something that Han translated as, “I hate you and thank you very much.” He left Luke in the main room and made his own way to bed, cursing princesses and alcohol and swearing that the next game night, he was going to lose every hand.


End file.
